Longing
by ColieMacKenzie
Summary: Mac has enough and takes matters into her own hands. Fluff of the passionate kind, set in season 8, shortly after All Ye Faithful.


**Longing**

**Disclaimer:** JAG and its characters are the property of Bellisarius Productions. I'm just using them out for my, and hopefully other people's entertainment. No monetary gain is made from this endeavor.

Mac has enough, and takes matters into her own hands. This was written in response to the HBX August Challenge 2007, the words used are from the episode _Body Talk_. The story is set in season 8, shortly after _All Ye Faithful_. Written entirely from Mac's POV. Rated M for sexual content.

**Warning!** This story contains sexual situations. Don't read it if you don't like that sort of thing. I tried my best not to be too explicit though. Trying this for the first time – and never intended for the story to go there! But Harm and Mac just went ahead and all I could do was type – guess all that passion finally had to erupt… (grin)

**AN:** First there was this romantic, steamy scene that Catherine Bell played in one of the latest Army Wives episodes. Then there were numerous people commenting on how they wished they could have seen something like this on JAG, especially with the blazing on-screen chemistry that CB and DJE had together. So I thought, why not at least write it?! So I did. Whoever saw the AW episode will recognize the scene, but everything else is – hopefully – purely Harm and Mac.

Warmest Thanks go out to Staz for her unbridled enthusiasm for this story, and doc, who kept reminding me that I better be providing a story in August! See, this is the result when I'm being put under pressure! ;-) Whether that's a good or a bad thing, I leave up to your - the reader's - judgment.

Feedback and constructive criticism are very much appreciated. Please enjoy!

**o o o o o o**

_**Longing**_

If she didn't have sex soon, she was going to go insane.

Ok, so that came out wrong. It wasn't like she was some crazy sex addict or anything. It had just been a really long time. And it wasn't like she craved just any sexual encounter. Wouldn't that have been simple? Noooo. It was _him_ who was driving her crazy. Hah, what else was new? And it really wasn't a long drive anymore!

It had all started at the Roberts' Christmas party this year. Oh, who was she kidding? It had started seven years ago, when he had dangled from a helicopter and asked for permission to come onboard. Which she had granted him when she pulled him up. Little did she know at the time that Harm hadn't simply climbed into the helicopter, but right into her heart. Made himself at home there and refused to move out again.

She sighed at the memory and adjusted the straps of the silky, blood red nightgown she was trying on. Turning to the right, then to the left, she scrutinized the swing of the gown's lacy edges around her thighs, really liked the way that her six looked with this specific cut, but then decided that the color was just too heavy. She needed something softer, less overwhelming… Innocent.

She snorted at the thought. None of the reasons why she was out buying flimsy lingerie in the middle of winter were innocent. She let the gown slide off her body, returned it to the hanger, then picked the next of the five she had taken into the changing room with her.

So here she was, seven years of unrequited love later. She hadn't realized for a long time that the reason she was so drawn to him constantly was more than merely needing the best friend she had ever had. Then she had followed him on an impossible quest to a far-away country and still didn't get it. Until she had found herself donning a soft, almost bridal night gown in a tiny, uncomfortable hotel room that they had shared, and spending hours upon hours just staring at his sleeping form. Wishing he'd lay cuddled close to her in the narrow, hard bed, rather than unreachably far away in the chair. Imagining how it would feel to take him into her arms, stroking his nightmare away. To run her fingers through his thick, silky hair. To feel the slightly raspy stubble on his chin under her fingertips. Under her lips. To have his strong arms wrap around her waist, pulling her against his hard, hot body…

The moan that escaped her brought her back to her senses. She really had to stop drifting off into steamy dreamlands in public places.

Ever since Russia, she had been pining after him like a love-sick teenager. While he picked up then got rid of another girlfriend, left her for months to follow his dream, then came back and seemed surprised that the world hadn't stopped revolving while he had been gone. Of course, he never figured out that one thing really hadn't changed, her love and desire for him. It built and built, steamrolled over her at every inopportune time, until she felt she would burst if she didn't do something about it. She had put everything on the line and propositioned him on a ferry under the stars in yet another far-away country, and all her hopes and dreams had shattered into a million pieces when he turned her down. She had wanted to kiss him so badly under the arc of the bridge that had once said 'Eternity' that her lips tingled in anticipation. Had imagined how it would feel to have the hot sand under her and the warmth of his body on top, with not a scrap of fabric between them and only the twinkling stars watching them from above. She had so strongly believed that he at least wanted her that his rejection had broken her heart more than she had ever thought possible. So she ran and took what, or rather who, was available to her.

Back there, in Sydney Harbor, she had sworn to herself that she would never again put herself out there, having to face that kind of crushing rejection. So what was she doing here, now?

Exasperated, she reached for yet another gown. This one was a creamy, off-white, satiny number with spaghetti straps, lacy embroidery on the bodice, and then the skirt dropped down from below the chest to her mid-thighs in a lovely, bell-like shape. Ironically, it was kind of similar to the one she had worn in Russia, except for its shortness. She twirled around in the narrow space of the dressing room and the gown's edges followed her every movement with whispering sounds, softly caressing her skin. She scrutinized her cleavage, her waist, her hips. The nightgown was absolutely perfect. Just what she had in mind. Deflated, she sank back, coming to lean against the mirror. She couldn't really do this.

Could she?

Back then, she had believed she was doing rather well. She didn't think of Harm anymore. Only very rarely. Really, only sometimes. She was with a wonderful, attentive man who worshipped the ground she walked on. Who gave up everything, only for her.

Jeez, if she was already having a conversation with herself like a crazy bag-lady, she might as well be honest and admit how truly stupid she had been at the time. He had pressured her into a relationship and almost into a marriage. And she had let him. Had reverted back to the kind of person she had never wanted to become again. Until it all came crashing down on her when she had kissed another man, _him_, during her own engagement party.

She felt the heat rise in her cheeks when she thought back to that kiss. It's just to say goodbye, she had told herself back then when she had reached up and softly kissed his lips. Only Harm hadn't let her go again, had followed her mouth until he claimed her lips with vigor and passion. His taste, his scent, the feel of his soft lips caressing hers, of his tongue tangling with hers, had left her powerless to do anything but hold on to his shoulders and return his soul-searching kiss. For endless seconds she had clung to him, reveling in that which she had wanted, craved, for so long.

Damn it, that was what she still wanted and craved more than anything. She slipped out of the gown and back into her jeans, sweatshirt and thick winter coat. Grabbed the cream-colored night gown, marched over to the cash register and whipped out her credit card.

She had enough. Eeee-nough!

His crash into the Atlantic, her aborted wedding, her stint on the Guadalcanal, it had all pulled them apart. But once she was back at HQ, they had gravitated back toward each other. It was unavoidable. Unstoppable. Like a moth to a flame, she had been drawn to him, and he to her.

Their friendship grew closer than ever before. They had declared the beginning, kissed under a mistletoe, traveled together, fought together. Slept cuddled close together under the stars in a strange, dangerous country. What was it with them and foreign countries, anyway? They had survived goats and landmines, dropping bombs and terrorists, pain and heartache.

She needed him like the air that she breathed.

And with every passing day, this tension between them seemed to grow. It zinged whenever they were in close proximity. Their conversations, their banter, their small touches, it all seemed more sexually charged than ever before.

At least that's what it felt like to her.

Then there was the Roberts' Christmas party last week. All day long she had worried about Harm, and her stomach kept cramping painfully each time he didn't answer his phone. She was so afraid for him that her hands were shaking and tears threatened to well up at any moment. She barely kept it together that day.

She had felt his presence before he even entered the house, and her heart had leapt out of her chest when he clinked his glass with hers and flashed that heart stopping smile only at her.

For the rest of the evening they had hovered close together. Inseparable. And flirting like crazy. He had commented to liking the way she had made up her hair and had played with a few strands of it while gazing deeply into her eyes. She had rested her hand on his chest, letting her fingers play over the empty spot while he told her what had happened to his gold wings. She had nibbled on a piece of gingerbread, and he had run his thumb across her lower lip, wiping away some leftover crumbs, then sucked them off the tip of this thumb. Her mouth had gone dry and her tummy fluttery.

And then nothing. Zilch, nada, zip. No mistletoe, no kiss, no NOTHING!

She couldn't take it anymore. She had just spent three days on an investigation with him. Three days where they were together every waking minute – for breakfast, work, dinner, and their evenings before bedtime. They'd talk, or just watch TV together, while outside the snow was falling relentlessly, burying the world under a blanket of white silence. She felt cocooned with him, and their conversations were low and whispered. They smiled and laughed and sat close together, ever closer, as if pulled together by magnetic force. Whenever he spoke, she'd stare at his mouth, sometimes barely aware of what he was talking about, and instead yearned to feel these lips on hers. She hungered to touch him every minute of every day. Her whole being was aching for Harm.

They were quartered in some small private hotel where they each had a room but had to share a bathroom each room connected to in the middle. Every morning when she entered the bathroom from her side, the shower stall was glistening from his shower, and the air was still moist and steamy, enriched with the fresh, manly smells of his shower gel and aftershave – and the scent that was uniquely him. She felt her knees buckle and heat and want wash over her with such a force that she needed to sit down on the closed toilet until her racing heart had calmed down and she stopped shaking. She knew she was losing it when she buried her face in his towel and didn't come back out for six minutes and fifty-three seconds.

This morning was the last straw, when he had accidentally walked in on her in the bathroom, wearing only boxer shorts. She was still in her pajamas, having just stumbled through the door, and she simply froze on the spot, staring at his chest. Her heart beat so rapidly that she believed he could see and hear it from afar. Her mouth felt like it was lined with cotton balls and she could barely manage to croak a good morning at him. And when she was finally left alone in the bathroom, she had decided that this was it. She couldn't go on like this. Something had to give. Even though she had sworn she wouldn't put herself in that position again, she had to do something.

They had wrapped up their investigation that afternoon, and she had told him she needed to run an errand before they met up again for dinner. So here she was, on her way back to the hotel – back from buying a piece of lingerie to seduce Harm.

**o o o o o o**

She supposed dinner might have been good, but she didn't taste a thing. She was so nervous that her stomach churned and her hands were shaky. What if she had completely misread everything, and he didn't want her?

But he was a man, was there _really _a chance he would turn down sex?

Her eyes dropped to stare at her dessert. When had she ordered a chocolate mousse? Problem was, she didn't want it to be just sex, not for him and not for herself. She loved him. More than she had ever loved anybody. It was a dangerous game she played. Because she wasn't sure how to go on surviving if he didn't want more than just a fling.

Yet despite all that, she knew she was going to go through with it.

Because she no longer knew how to go on surviving if she didn't.

**o o o o o o**

"Mac, want to use the bathroom first or should I?" Harm yelled from his room.

"You can go first," she yelled back, then grinned at the silliness of it all. Just a minute ago, she had still been in his room, but neither one of them had remembered to discuss the 'logistics' of the bathroom tonight. Well, she had been useless, unable to form a single coherent thought anyway. Having him use the bath first was certainly more practical, seeing as tonight, he would definitely be faster than her; she didn't want any interruptions later, and she needed the bathroom for her 'great entrance.'

She heard the bathroom door close and sank onto her bed. Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod.

Too jittery to sit, she got back up and paced through her room. He was mercifully quick tonight, and barely five minutes later, she gathered her gown and matching panties and locked herself in the bathroom. This was it. There was no turning back now. She was sure that Harm was completely unaware of what was going on in her mind. She had been so absent-minded all through the evening that numerous times he had asked whether she was okay. She had claimed to be tired, or added other flimsy excuses, but she couldn't even look him in the eyes. If she did, she would either ravish him on the spot, or flee.

She had a quick shower and shaved her legs for the second time that day. Took off her make-up, then reapplied a few touches, just to enhance eyes, lashes and lips. Threw her head down and worked on her hair with comb and a little hairspray so that when she came back up, it would have the same mussed-up look he had so admired last week. Satisfied with the effect, she slipped into the gown.

This was it. She refused to think about it again, gulped down her heart that seemed to beat in her throat, took a deep breath – and stepped through the door that opened into his room.

**o o o o o o**

She found him sitting in the middle of his bed, only dressed in his boxers, reading over some file, and her head got woozy at the sight. He looked up when he heard the door opening.

"Mac, did you forget…" but the rest of his sentence never came while he stared at her. Gaped, really. At that moment, she realized that she hadn't even thought of what she would say to him.

For a whole minute and twenty-six seconds, they kept staring at each other. She bit her lip.

"What…" He gulped heavily, and sounded croaky. "…is going on?"

Oh my, if he didn't realize that, she might have more work to do here than she thought!

"This is just one of those moments, Harm," she whispered, "where two lives intersect." For a brief moment, fear and panic raced through her, every fiber of her being told her to flee, but she remained where she was, rooted by his stare and her desire. She intertwined her hands, nervously kneading her fingers.

"Harm, I…" She took a first tentative step into his room. "I love it when we spend time with each other, and when we are close together." She kept walking towards his bed, and was thrilled that he kept looking at her, seemingly mesmerized by the movement of her lips.

"I love it when you touch me…" It didn't matter that he had never before touched her intimately; just his hands on her shoulders, his fingers on her arm, or his hand at the small of her back, made her skin tingle.

"I love it when you kiss me…" God, she needed another one of his intoxicating kisses. They hadn't done this nearly enough. She reached the bed and knelt down on the edge.

"I want you _so_ much…" Her voice hitched. There were just no words adequate enough to express how much she wanted, yearned, ached for him.

She brought her hands down, then slowly crawled towards him on the mattress, well aware that she presented him a bird's eye view down the front of her gown, all the way to her belly button. Well, that was the point, wasn't it? Yet his gaze didn't waver. His rapt attention was on her eyes, her lips, and warmth raced through her body.

"…but I always shut it down… because I'm so afraid… of what you would say…" His closeness was already making her head spin, and her voice became more whispery the closer she was to him. Almost in his lap now, she slightly rose, laid her palms against his chest and brought her face in front of his. Her lips were almost touching his when she continued in a raspy sigh,

"…when I told you that I want to make love to you."

**o o o o o o**

He remained silent, while his eyes singed right into her soul. God, why didn't he say something?! She gazed at him through half-lidded eyes; felt his breath whisper across her face, moist and rapid. The ache in her belly grew and coiled until her hands clenched and her fingernails dug into his heaving chest. She sighed his name against his mouth,

"Harm…"

And they erupted.

Their lips met in a frenzy of desire and suppressed need. It was hot and steamy, their tongues sliding together, mimicking movements their bodies craved to follow. She softly pushed against his chest, and he lay down on the bed, bringing her with him. Her body on top of his, her legs tangled with his, her breasts crushed against his chest, only separated by the flimsy fabric of her nightgown. His hands crawled to her back, and then he pulled her closer until it felt as if they were sealed, glued together.

They fit together perfectly, every curve, every angle.

She indulged in his wonderful kisses. He nibbled on her lips, softly stroked with his lips and tongue, then once again dove deeply into her mouth, robbing her of her breath and her sanity. Oh, this was better than she had allowed herself to dream. No significant others. Nobody to interrupt. Just him and her and this powerful, overwhelming, incredible attraction.

His hands roamed across her back, then they wandered down, past her hips and on her six. He squeezed, just slightly, and she moaned and rotated her hips against his. She felt him growing against her, and the groan that rumbled out from deep inside of him made her limbs go weak. Not that she didn't already feel heavy and limp, but this, this was, oh god, there were no words.

Their mouths and tongues played and danced with each other, and almost with a mind of their own, her hips rhythmically rotated and pressed against his groin. Feeling the evidence of his obvious excitement, the touch of his hands splayed against her, his rapid breathing, his groans and moans, was intoxicating, and heat flushed through her body like shockwaves. Warm and wet, it pooled in her belly and between her thighs.

His fingertips raked down her six, caressed along the cleft where her cheeks met her thighs and over to her hips. He grabbed a hold of the bottom of her nightgown on each side, but then he stopped moving, slowed down their kiss, and broke away. She kept panting heavily, her eyes closed, too overwhelmed from the force of being with him.

"Sarah," he whispered between pants, and the way he said her name made her bite her lip.

"Sarah, look at me," he urged, and she slowly forced her eyes open. He couldn't stop now; if he turned her down, she would die of need. But what she saw when her eyes met his made her head spin. His gaze was heavy, dark, full of desire and passion, laced with wonder and a little worry.

"Are you…," he began, but she quickly brought a finger to his lips, shushing him. She should have known. Even though she had been the one to initiate things, he was still worried whether she was sure. She smiled at him; might even have rolled her eyes just a tiny bit. Being a gentleman was one of his finest qualities, but it was the last thing he needed to be now.

"Harm, there's not a traffic light to be found." Then she remembered that this was her seduction, and she rose up and came to sit on his hips. Wiggling her bottom, she made sure she had his full attention. In every sense of the word. Then she took hold of the hem of her nightgown, and gradually pulled it up her body and over her head.

He took her in while following his eyes with his hands, caressing across her stomach, her rib cage, up between her breasts and on to her shoulders.

"You are so beautiful," he sighed, and it made her feel womanly and desirable, powerful and awed. She let her fingertips play over his broad shoulders, then trailed them through his springy chest hair, over his strong muscles, and around his nipples. He sucked in his breath, and his eyes grew impossibly darker.

"So are you," she answered. She slid her index finger across the soft skin of his top, then his bottom lip. Leaning forward, she replaced the finger with her lips, kissing him deeply. The heat of his skin seeped into her, the soft rasp of his chest hair tickled against her bare breasts, and her nipples ached and contracted. She trailed open-mouthed kisses over his chin and down his neck. Sucked and nibbled on his collarbones. Kissed and licked her way across his chest. Flicked one of his nipples with her tongue, while she let her fingers play with the other. She couldn't get enough. The taste and feel of him were intoxicating, heightening her own arousal with every kiss, stroke, nip, and touch.

Every foray she made elicited a new reaction from him. His muscles moved and contracted under her mouth and fingertips. His breath came out in gasps and moans. His eyes fluttered closed, while his fingers slid through her hair or trailed up and down her sides. Holding on to her but never constricting her movements.

She took a moment to revel in the wanton sight of him. It was the most stunning thing she had ever seen. She was awed by his every reaction. It was a heady feeling to experience that he seemed to want her as much as she wanted him. God, how she loved this man, this beautiful, sexy, passionate, strong, warm, loving man. She felt almost giddy thinking of how he would feel inside of her, that she was finally, finally, with him this way.

While trailing kisses down his stomach, she slid her hands down to his waist, dipping her fingers under the waistband of his boxers. Then she lifted herself up, hooked her index fingers on each side, and pulled them down. His erection sprang up eagerly, and her mouth watered. She had dreamed of seeing him like this for years, yet the reality of him surpassed all fantasies. Her tummy contracted in anticipation.

She slid the boxers off his feet, threw them off the bed, then slowly crawled her way back up his body, caressing and kissing up his legs until she was back at his middle, while he raptly watched her every movement. Tentatively at first, then more bravely, she wrapped her hand around his length, exploring his texture and feel. The velvety softness of the skin and the steely hardness underneath. While her fingers stroked and raked, she brought her mouth around him, and his hips almost lifted off the bed. She reveled in his taste, his feel, until her name escaped his lips over and over again, raw and yearning, "Sarah… Sarah… Sarah…"

Suddenly his hands were around her waist, and she was lifted and turned, laid on her back in the middle of the soft comforter and with him on top.

"My turn now," he whispered, and she gulped in anticipation at the raw, passionate promise in his eyes.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss that left them both breathless and squirming with need. Then he began his journey over her body. Soft kisses trailed down her neck. His tongue licked. His mouth suckled. His fingertips caressed her collarbones. Onward his fervent exploration moved, over her shoulders, up and down her arms, then across her chest. It felt as if he was everywhere at once and she moaned at the exquisiteness of the feelings only he could evoke in her. She was so wet and aroused that she wouldn't have needed any more foreplay. But then again, why should she deny herself…, aaahh, now his fingers trailed over her breasts, ever closer to her aching…, deny herself this… She whimpered when he suddenly drew one of her erect nipples into his mouth, suckling and nipping, feasting on her, and all coherent thought flew right out of her mind. Every one of his touches made her gasp and moan, and she squirmed underneath him while her middle was seeking to get ever closer to his hardness. Determined, he continued his exquisite ministrations, until she didn't know how much more of this she could take and yet greedily begged for more, more, more.

"Harm," she yelped, her hips lifting off the bed in an unexpected surge of bone-deep pleasure. God, she hadn't even noticed when he had freed her of her panties, and now his head was buried between her thighs. Her head fell back on the pillow, thrashing back and forth, and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, rapidly loosing control. His tongue was stroking her swollen folds, then finding the hidden bundle of nerves, he suckled and played, nuzzled and nipped. His fingers joined the sensual assault, dipped inside of her, and she could no longer tell where was top and where was bottom. Sensations raced through her, overwhelmed her with their force, the heat rose and coiled, her belly contracted, and she clawed her fingers into the bedspread to hold on to something, anything… She was writhing, struggling; too soon, too quick… she didn't want to come yet… wasn't ready for it to be over…

"Let it go, baby," he rasped, and the vibrations of his voice shimmied through her nerve endings. That was all it took, and her body convulsed, wracked by a splintering climax. His name flew off her lips in a voice she no longer recognized as her own. He stroked her through it, drawing out the sensations until her whole being went limp and she lay spent and sprawled underneath him, gasping for breath.

His fingers linked with hers and she languidly blinked her eyes open. They connected with his, and instantly the heat was back. Dark and intense, his eyes sparkled with a tad of pride and lots of unbridled passion, and she just knew it wasn't enough, it would never be enough. This man was her whole life. He centered her, made her want to rise above herself, and she craved to be the one to make him happy more than anything else she had ever wanted. She was stripped of all her defenses, was well aware that he would be able to see every one of her feelings clearly written across her face. If he chose to read them. His gaze pierced all the way into her soul, and she wanted to believe, clung to the hope that he felt the same way about her.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, at once needy and desperate for that final, ultimate connection. And he smiled at her, soft and warm and awed. Kissed her with aching tenderness. Nudged her entrance. Tenderly, infinitesimally slowly, slid inside of her, deeper and farther than she had ever felt before. Then his mouth lifted off hers, and she felt his whispers against her lips more than she heard his words,

"I love you, Sarah."

What?! It couldn't… did he really say…? He moved again, in and out, every push and pull a little faster, stronger, and she lost all control of her body. It twisted and writhed underneath his, her inner muscles squeezing him insistently with a mind of their own. Felt the vibrations of his gasps and moans, mirroring her own. Her fingers clung to his shoulders, his hips, desperate to hold on, pull him close, ever closer, deeper. She had dreamed, hoped, wished, but never had her heart dared to believe that he… oh god, if he only twisted like this again… aaaahh, more, she needed more, to feed this tension, this ache, she needed…

"Harder…" It was a sigh, a pledge, a sound ripped from her throat, raw and frantic, and it was answered by a growl deep from his chest and more force to his thrusts. Her senses went into overdrive when his fingers slipped between their joined bodies, heightening the multitude of reactions wracking through her, his other hand paying attention to her sensitive breasts. And they said men were unable to multitask… She began throbbing, her hands and feet cramped convulsively, spears of electricity raced through her, and the whole world narrowed down to becoming only about the two of them; nothing else mattered but this soul-deep connection. Such a cliché, but really, she had never… it had never… felt anything like this before… And once more she was there, at that mysterious border where heaven met the stars.

Her first climax had only been a harbinger. This time when she came, she was thrown over the proverbial edge with unstoppable force. Light splintered through her in colorful flashes, her head was spinning, every muscle contracted, and the vibrations spurned on his release, sending them flying. Gasping, moaning, they clung together. He chanted her name, over and over, and his spasms inside of her, the heat of his release rushing into her body drew out the sensations until she feared she might black out. Blindly, with her last bits of energy, she lifted her head, searching for his mouth. Breathlessly, connected in every way possible, they kissed through the final spasms until they were both utterly spent, gasping for breath, and he collapsed on her. She cradled him within her arms and legs, and for endless minutes, neither could move.

At some point he turned to his back, taking her with him, and she came to rest on top of him, their bodies still intimately connected. She snuggled her face in the crook of his neck, and he held her in his arms, caressing her back and sides with feathery strokes. She felt the most treasured woman in the world.

He smelled like Harm, and like sex, and a little bit like her, and she couldn't help but nuzzle her mouth to the tender spot where his neck met his jaw.

"You know," she whispered against his skin, a smile on her lips. "I always thought the toe-curling climax is an urban myth." She rained a series of soft kisses over his neck. "Until just now."

A soft laugh rumbled through his chest, and he smiled at her, with warmth and pride and a little of his customary flyboy cockiness in his eyes. He kissed her softly, then she snuggled back into the crook of his neck, a space that seemed to be fitted just for her head. They fell silent once more, tenderly caressing each other.

He reached for one of her hands, linked her fingers with his, then brought it up to his mouth and kissed her fingertips. "Did you really believe I would turn you down?"

She nodded against his neck, and he squeezed her fingers and hugged her closer to him.

She took a deep, fortifying breath. "Did you mean it?" She hated sounding insecure, but she had gone through so much heartache where this man was concerned, and it was easy to blurt out things in the heat of passion.

He cradled her chin in his hand and lifted her face so she'd look up to him. He kissed her lips, and his look was serious, honest, laced with the same intensity he usually displayed when he was out searching for the truth, no matter what.

"Yes, I did. I love you, Sarah. There's nobody like you."

She couldn't help the tears that welled up in her eyes, while her face broke into a smile that threatened to split her face in two. So this was what true happiness felt like.

"I love you, too." With matching, goofy grins they reached for the other, sinking into an intense, soul-searching kiss full of love and tenderness, until the passion and fire between them rekindled all over again.

She would never throw out that nightgown.

_The End_


End file.
